Incipit (this bike can carry lots of books)
by dhufflebee
Summary: 21st June 2003: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is released. Clint definitely is a Potterhead, and so is Laura. What better place than a book shop for a meet-cute? (Which doesn't go as smoothly as one could imagine, though.)


**21** **st** **June 2003:** _ **Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix**_ **is released. Clint definitely is a Potterhead, and so is Laura. What better place than a book shop for a meet-cute? (Which doesn't go as smoothly as one could imagine, though.)**

 _We know very few things about Laura Barton, and that means she can be and do anything. This is a headcanon for the moment she and Clint met._

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* * *

Clint huffed in exasperation. Writing mission reports was not his cup of tea at all – better, he _hated_ it. Besides, describing how the team had managed to complete the mission without letting its real sloppiness peak through the written lines wasn't his favourite way to spend a sunny June afternoon. He was tired as hell because of the past three days spent constantly on edge, with a risible amount of sleep to count on, and his head was starting to pound. He stretched his aching back and shut his eyes for a few seconds (stupid computer glowing), before shifting his attention to the clock on the wall – 6:27 pm.

«Holy shit!», Clint yelled, jumping to his feet and nearly knocking down the cup of coffee near the keyboard. «Damn mission report and damn SHIELD – I'm not fucking missing _Order of the Phoenix_ 's release!»

He didn't bother saving the file on the computer, nor did he turn it off; he just glanced at his t-shirt and tracksuit pants, deeming them clean enough to go out of the house, and looked around him in the living room searching for the car keys. Then he realized that he didn't have a car anymore. Damn mission. Well, it wasn't actually _his_ in the first place, but he was its most frequent (if not sole) user, so… He mentally cursed the whole situation, and grabbed the house key – he needed to hurry up if he ever wanted to get to the book shop in time. He put a pair of battered sneakers on, closed the door behind him and ran down the stairs to the building's back alley.

«Oh, shit. I'm gonna get run over by a truck. Or I'm gonna die of fatigue before getting there!» he exclaimed, eyeing a rusty piece of metal that a really optimistic person would call a bicycle. It was an old bike of Bobbi's that she had left at the apartment when she had moved out. Neither Natasha nor Jessica ever dared ride it; Kate, on the other hand, used it quite regularly, though she kept suggesting he needed to buy a new one. Clint was somewhat fond of that old bike: not that he used it very much, but that rusty, old thing touched a soft spot in his heart. The fact was, it had no functioning brakes. But hell, it was surely better than running.

After having pedaled for a good twenty minutes, somehow avoiding crashing into lampposts and cars, Clint arrived at the book shop – 6:58 pm. «Hell yes, it's still open! Technically, at least», he exulted, before dropping the bike near the shop window and heading inside, trying to conceal his panting. He noticed that the cash register was unattended to, and that not one single employee could be seen – not Egg Head, nor the Spinster, nor the guy of the evening shift, even – but he couldn't care less. All he wanted at that moment was to have his beloved, long-waited-for _Harry Potter_ fifth volume in his hands, and to shuffle through the pages inhaling the new book's scent. He half-jogged through the hall and reached the "Fiction" room, sure he would find there the rack he was looking for. He observed the magnificent composition of colourful books on the shelves all around him, and gasped and smiled (let's be honest, he _loved_ bookstores). His eyes landed on the new _Harry Potter_ rack, and found it… empty.

«What?!» He couldn't fucking believe it. He had nearly died on that old, rusty scrap of metal to get there on time, and the book wasn't there? Was that a sick joke destiny was playing him as a punishment for his negligence about mission reports? Shit.

Clint headed back towards the book store entrance, fuming and barely noticing that all the lights were off. He yanked the door, but it didn't move. «Oh, fuck it!» he screamed, before slamming his hand on the door in frustration. He was trapped in the damned shop, and his head was pounding like mad. He rested his forehead on the door, trying to think of the most intelligent thing to do, but almost immediately found himself bumping his head on the glass – something that wouldn't surely soothe his aching brain nor help him in that situation. He stopped.

After all, he was in a book shop. If he had to wait until morning to get out, least he could do was to read. He went back to the "Fiction" section, feeling a little overwhelmed by the amount of printed paper around him. «Aw, fuck me. I'm gonna re-read _Goblet of Fire_. Seems only right», he said, throwing his hand up in the air and grabbing the thick volume. He looked around to find a chair, but there were none. He shrugged and sat on the floor, his back against the wall near the "Detective stories" shelves.

The archer's muscles were aching at various degrees of intensity, both from the mission and the bike ride, and his tiredness was right there, threatening to catch him off-guard. The pounding in his head was far from stopping, and his stomach had already started to grumble. «Fucking jackpot, man», he growled under his breath. Clint thought he had all the rights to be pissed off at that moment, yet he was too weary to focus. He decided he was going to close his eyes just for a bit, hoping at least his brain would stop tormenting him…

 **xxxxxxxxxxx**

«Another five minutes…» Clint managed to say, keeping his eyes firmly shut and waving his hand in a feeble attempt to drive away the nuisance. A delicate hand grasped him by the shoulder and shook it again. He opened his eyes with some difficulty, and found himself staring at a young, pretty woman, who was obviously trying her best not to laugh.

Clint's eyes widened and he clumsily got on his feet, apologizing. «Oh, man! Fuck it! Shit, I'm sorry! Fuck!» He felt his cheeks heat, and realized it would be better if he stopped pouring bad words on the poor employee, whose (beautiful, big) eyes were lit up in amusement. «I'm sorry! I- I'll just go, I think», Clint babbled, and headed towards the exit, followed by the woman. He registered the bright sunlight gleaming through the shop window, and exclaimed: «Shit! Have I slept here the whole night?»

«Um… Yes», the woman answered, her lips arching in a smile. She was amused by the whole situation, as far as Clint could read her expression, but she didn't seem to be mocking or judging him. He mentally thanked the karma it had been that pretty brunette to wake him up, and not the Spinster.

«Okay, well, thank you, bye», Clint said, nodding and opening the door. He reached for his bike (even if he hadn't secured it, no one with a bit of brains would have ever stolen it), still feeling the employee's eyes on his back. He jumped on the old metal thing and started pedaling along the sidewalk. After a dozen meters, he halted by stomping his feet on the pavement, and facepalmed. «Shit! I forgot to buy the book!»

* * *

Laura had woken up earlier than usual that morning, even if the previous day had been a tour-de-force due to the new J.K. Rowling's book. She felt awfully tired but, hell, it was _Harry Potter_ after all: she loved those special events. They had opened the book shop at midnight and feasted throughout the day; she had sported her Ravenclaw tie for the occasion, and even showed everybody the wooden wand she had carved herself. Lots of people had attended (kids with parents, especially, but also a bunch of teenagers and some of her thirty-something friends), they had sold _a ton_ of books, and the atmosphere was nothing short than magical.

Laura was deeply enjoying the walk from her home to the shop, surrounded by the humming of the city, not yet at its peak. It was a breezy morning, and she felt happy – not even the early shift could make her stop thinking about the awesome, thick book waiting on her bedside table. She was whistling, even. _Potter Power_.

She finished eating the croissant she had bought on the road, opened the shop door with her key, and headed inside. She started the usual tour of the rooms, in order to check that everything was in its place. She reached the "Fiction" section, switched the lights on and looked around. A small cry erupted from her mouth, but she muted it slapping a hand on her lips – a _man_ was _asleep_ on the _floor_. Holy shit.

Laura's mind wandered wildly for a few seconds, trying to process what she was supposed to do in such an occasion. Actually, she couldn't recall ever consider a happening like that; she guessed she had to at least wake him up, first. She bent in front of him and tried to speak to him: «Err- I'm sorry?», but after a couple of attempts she desisted. She grasped his shoulder and shook it lightly; the man didn't open his eyes, but muttered «Another five minutes…» while flapping a hand in front of him. Laura had to purse her lips to avoid bursting into laughter – she was extremely amused. She shook his shoulder again, and that time the man opened his eyes. She could read horror and embarrassment in them, before he clumsily got to his feet and started pouring bad words around. Oh, wow! Well, Laura could understand his bafflement – he had slept in a bookstore, after all.

She checked her memories of the special _Potter_ event searching for him, but she didn't find any traces of his attending. Hell, she was sure she would have remembered him. Damn, was he hot! She took the liberty of checking him out while walking behind him, and barely registered he had asked her a question.

«Um… Yes», she answered, smiling. Their eyes met for a brief moment, before he babbled «Okay, well, thank you, bye»; then he turned around and headed outside.

Still amused by the situation, Laura watched him graciously reaching for his rusty bike and heading off. She was about to return to her task and file the whole thing under "strange encounters", when the man halted abruptly and facepalmed. She arched an eyebrow and eyed him curiously as he approached the shop again. She went and opened the door, a quizzical look on her face.

«I forgot to buy the book», he said sheepishly, his hand stroking the back of his head. She grinned (and somehow managed not to laugh at the surreality of the situation), and felt something click in her as he blushed. Oh, shucks – he's awkward, too. There, jackpot!

«Which one, exactly?» she asked, really hoping it was the one she was thinking about.

«Err- _Order of the Phoenix_?» he answered, shooting her a quick glance before landing his gaze on his shoes. (Yay!) Laura had to resist the urge to squeal at the fellow, attractive Potterhead, and tried to act professionally instead.

«Okay, wait a sec», she said, nodding, and headed toward the back door. They had obviously sold all the showcased copies at the event, but a box of books had been saved expressly for non-obsessed buyers. Though Laura felt such an adjective did not suit Cute Guy (that was his name, she had decided, until a better option arose). After all, she had found him asleep in the book shop, and that meant he had gotten there right before closing hours. _On the day of the book's release_. She wondered what job he had that didn't let him attend an all-day event.

The box full of books was right behind the door, purposely easy to reach. Nonetheless, Laura sat on it and took her time. She peered through the slightly opened door at the man in the shop. She thought "interesting" would be a fitting adjective to describe him – not funny-interesting, though, more like fascinating-interesting –. She couldn't quite stop looking at him. First impression aside, Cute Guy's handsomeness was overshadowed by other features of his: he moved graciously, yet Laura could see his muscles under the casual clothes; he was failing to cover up his coyness, but she had witnessed he could be rather loose with his talk. Above all, he seemed really interested in the books around him.

He had just started peering at the volumes on the "New" shelves, when she grabbed a copy of _Order of the Phoenix_ and returned to the hall. The man looked a bit more relaxed, and Laura couldn't help but wonder what exactly he had been preoccupied with.

«Here you are», she said, smiling. Her voice came out chirpier than she intended, but she guessed it was due to the excitement of selling a _Harry Potter_ book. To a handsome man. Whatever. «Fresh off the printer!» Okay, that was not exactly brilliant. Shut up, Laura.

«Thanks!» Cute Guy's eyes lit up when he finally had the book in his hands, and he looked at Laura as if the mere existence of the volume had been about her. She fumbled with the cash register, blushing a little, and her gaze shot up immediately when he cleared his throat.

«Do you have a phone here, by chance? I really need to make a call».

Laura smirked and handed him the shop's telephone; he thanked her with a nod and dialed a number by heart. She walked off because that wasn't really her business, and started putting new books on the shelves. She decided she would sort them by their covers' colour – something a little unusual for the shop, but Cute Guy's presence made Laura feel a bit silly. She heard him put the phone back at its place, and shot a quick glance behind her shoulder. Their eyes met and he smiled; she turned her head, blushing. She dared look again after a few seconds, but he had started browsing the shelves, his brows furrowing while he read the back covers. Every now and then, his gaze lifted up, but Laura would turn around before meeting his eyes. She could still feel his gaze on her back, though.

The silly ritual had been going on for about twenty minutes (adolescents on a bus, really – pathetic), when she heard tires screeching. A big, black SUV had stopped in front of the book store, and a man with sunglasses was peering through the driver's window. On the car door there was a symbol Laura had never seen before. Cute Guy's face looked relieved, yet his stance showed a notch of cockiness; he opened the door wide and headed outside. Laura nonchalantly moved towards the centre of the room.

«Coulson! About damn time!» he exclaimed.

«Honestly, Barton, you're such a nerd», the man in the car answered, shaking his head slightly. «I should have thought you were buying that, when you wouldn't answer your phone».

Cute Guy shrugged and opened the car door, tossed the book on the seat and climbed inside. Laura's heart sank a little: she had expected him to say goodbye, or at least to _acknowledge_ her. Her smile started to fade, yet she didn't tear her gaze away from the vehicle.

«I'll have someone bring that bike of yours back at your place», the driver said.

Cute Guy was about to close the door but stopped abruptly. «Wait», he said, getting off the car. He reached Laura by the bookstore door, his hand darting to the back of his head again. «Look», he mumbled, the sheepishness still audibly there. «I know I slept in your shop, and that's trespassing or something. So, first of all, thanks for not calling the police». Laura had to admit she hadn't even considered that side of the situation. Aw, hell, who cared?

«Then, thank you for not judging me for my book tastes», he went on. Laura was screaming internally, the Potterhead inside her clawing to come out and share its excitement with the man in front of her. Her heart started melting slowly at the sight of his smile.

«And, well… The fact is, I really need someone to look after my bike while I'm at work», he stated, glancing at the rusty means of transport. «Do you think you could?» His eyes were full of hope.

«Sure I can», Laura answered, smiling. Cute Guy's face lit up.

«Thank you, really!» he said with enthusiasm. He started jogging toward the car, but then stopped, turned around, and stretched his arm for Laura to reach. «I'm Clint, by the way».

She laughed a little, before grasping his hand and shaking it. «I'm Laura».

Cute Guy ( _Clint_ ) climbed once again in the car, and lowered the window. As the SUV drove off, he waved to Laura, who mimicked him, smiling. The driver exclaimed: «Seriously, Barton. A fucking nerd.»

Laura started whistling again.

* * *

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Honestly, I just love them.


End file.
